Bloody Revelations
by Dragonfly-Moonlight
Summary: He lay in a hospital but still held captive by the memories. Only one is able to give him the comfort he needs, but it isn't enough. It will never be enough. Rated for implied themes.


Disclaimer: I do not own Gravitation.  
Author's Note: Please read _Sing to Me, My Precious Angel _and _Beauty in Death_ before continuing with this piece. This is an off-shoot of those pieces. Some day, I'll actually have a chaptered fictional piece to go into more details of how everything happened. Right now, though, I'm content with these little random one-shots. ^_^ Enjoy!

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Tears stung at his eyes as pain flowed more than freely throughout his body. Every breath he took was agony in its purest form, and he wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and never wake up again. However, when he closed his eyes, Taki's leering expression greeted him, and the mere thought of his former rival touching him sent fresh waves of pain coursing through him, rendering Shuichi helpless as memories of physical assaults and mental agony tormented him.

He was no longer in Taki's clutches. That much, Shuichi knew. Some Americans had found him and rescued him from his hell, but their arrival had not been in time to spare the singer weeks of torment and mental anguish. He still felt the other singer's hands roaming over his body, his hot breath against his neck, and the feel of Taki stretched over his body. The memories of those moments with Taki were enough to nauseate Shuichi and cause him to scream, even when he had no voice left. His skin crawled as well with each memory, and Shuichi was not sure if he could handle much more.

"Shuichi-chan?"

At the sound of his boss's voice, Shuichi opened his eyes. Blue-green eyes stared back, worry and concern shimmering in them, and Shuichi reached his hand out. He wanted to tell his boss, and his lover, he was fine. The nightmares, the sensations, the nausea, they were nothing, and they would pass.

However, the words could not form or make any type of sound so he could give those reassurances to Tohma. Taki had struck a deep, resounding fear within Shuichi, a fear the singer could not identify. He did not want to sing anymore or talk. The sole purpose of his torture had been to create sounds of any kind from Shuichi, a realization that had come to the singer within the first week of his captivity.

Tohma grasped his hand, smiling a little, though the worry and concern never faded. The blond kissed Shuichi's palm, and he leaned over, his free hand combing through Shuichi's hair.

"You're hurting," Tohma murmured. "I can see it."

Tears formed in Shuichi's eyes, and he nodded. Oh, how he wanted the pain and those horrid memories to disappear! He wanted his life back, the one he and Tohma had been forging together before Taki had re-entered their lives, but Shuichi knew it would be impossible. His body was too battered at the moment, too scarred from the assaults, and too weak from not being able to eat. He'd had three infections since arriving to the hospital, and each illness had threatened to kill him every time. Shuichi was no longer certain if he even possessed the strength to continue fighting.

There was also the fear of Taki reaching him once again. The former singer had proven once he could get to Shuichi any time he wanted, and that fact alone terrified the singer beyond comprehension. Tohma's free hand traveled from Shuichi's hair to his cheek.

"He won't hurt you again," Tohma said. "I promise that he won't. I've seen to it that he won't."

Something in his lover's words triggered an emotion in Shuichi, a strength he believed he would never have ever again. He tilted his head, wondering if Tohma meant what Shuichi thought he meant.

"He's . . . he's gone?" The words came out in a whisper, the most Shuichi could manage. Tohma nodded.

"Yes," he replied. "He's gone. He met with a most unfortunate . . . accident while in jail. Someone apparently did not care for what he had done, and he was hung. The police have informed me he did not survive. I personally identified the body to be sure."

For a moment, Shuichi said nothing. His mind tried to wrap around the news Tohma was giving him, and it took several minutes before the knowledge registered in his mind. Taki was _dead_. The tears from before finally spilled down Shuichi's cheeks, and he wrapped his arms around Tohma as fiercely as he could, despite his current weakness. Tohma returned the embrace.

"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you."

* * *

"How did he take the news?" the detective asked. Tohma shrugged, his eyes on the crescent moon.

"Aizawa-san tormented him for weeks," Tohma replied. "Shindou-san shot him and killed him. How do you think he took the news?"

The dark-haired man shrugged as well, bringing his cigarette to his lips.

"Relieved, guilty, happy," the other man said. "I can only imagine the number it's doing on his mind."

"I did not tell him he killed Aizawa-san, detective." Tohma turned his head. "As far as he knows, someone else did for what he had done to Shindou-san."

"You really think the D.A. is going to let this rest?" The dark-haired man exhaled, a plume of smoke rising from his lips. "The punishment didn't fit the crime, according to her."

"And what punishment would fit?" Tohma inquired. "Three years in jail? Four? There is no punishment for what Aizawa-san had done."

"I agree, and I'm sure your lawyers will point that out in court." The detective smiled and then dropped his spent cigarette to the ground, crushing it out. "And you'll take him back to Japan where he belongs. Everything will be as it should be."

"Except Shindou-san will probably never sing again," Tohma murmured. "Aizawa-san has made sure of it."


End file.
